Invasion of the bloody people

[hirez]

Ugh. I despair. Again.

What is it about the sort of bloody people who munch and slurp comestibles in your car and then think it's acceptable to abandon the wrappings there? It pisses me right off on two levels.

One: I am hardly the sort of car-proud git who you see hoovering out the interior of their pride+joy in the garage of a weekend when normal people are staggering up to the place for bread, milk and a Sunday paper. However, should I get angry about the messy buggers in para. 1, I've conceptually joined the ranks of the Sunday car-washer, so the untidy fucks manage to make me angry with... Myself. A right result for them, I should imagine.

Two: I'm not your fucking dad. How dare you make me feel as if I am, just because I grew up in the middle of nowhere, learned to drive as a matter of survival and then kept a car because, well, that's what people do. (Yes, even as a student. Well, I say 'car'. It was a Renault-5 that became unexpectedly and hilariously three-wheeled. And indeed when I was unemployed.) You don't get to drop your crisp packets in the passenger footwell and you certainly don't get to cram in an unexpected mate. (Because abandoning a complete stranger makes me look like a complete cock.)

Learn some manners. Learn to exit the vehicle with your own rubbish.

Comments

[hirez.livejournal.com]

I think it's dependant on your idea of rubbish. Pater used to keep what was effectively the most useful parts of a toolbox in the passenger foot-well of his Landies; I guess it functioned like a local cache for the cantilever boxes in the back. For my part, I was never precious enough to have one of those cassette-briefcase things[1], so when the glovebox overflowed with mixtapes, they ended up in the passenger foot-wells of the various company cars I was handed. Along with the big roadmap and the half-dozen A-Zs of various conurbations in Wales and the South-West that those of us performing in the field circus had to carry before the advent of mobile phones and GPS. Even now, there's a steering lock, a large-scale OS map and a tin of de-icer rattling about; but those are semi-fixtures and easily distinguishable from crisp packets and the like.

[1] By brother had one, but he ended up pissing in it by accident and ruining all the tapes.

[jarkman.livejournal.com]

By what *kind* of accident ? I'm having trouble with my visualisation here.

[hirez.livejournal.com]

Beer-related.

[bluekieran.livejournal.com]

There are only two "tapes" in my car: the tape adaptor for my mp3 player, and the spare tape adaptor for same. I suspect this is due to my not joining the car-owning community until very recently.

(Just as well, really, as there is absolutely fuck all storage space in the 306. Even the glovebox is tiny.)

[hirez.livejournal.com]

Probably. I speak of the eighties, which was the last time I had a proper job that involved dressing up for the customers.

[gaius-octavian.livejournal.com]

But it's big enough for your gloves...

[sheepthief.livejournal.com]

Tapes, tools, maps, etc, these things are meant for re-use. Crisp packets are not.

Always remember to unfasten the passenger seatbelt and open the passenger door before discarding rubbish.